Because This is My First Life
by wrendering
Summary: Having resigned herself to a 9 to 5 until retirement (until death), Tala's routine is disrupted when she gets dropped into a universe without a clue and a very short amount of time to come to grips with; but even with the constant threat of mortal danger, she begins to find that she's never felt more alive.
1. Prologue

The beeping of her phone was the most obnoxious thing she'd ever heard.

"Just five more minutes," she said to her ceiling as she turned off her alarm.

Seven minutes later, she finally summoned up the courage to open her eyes. To her delight, the clock read 7:52. Only weirdoes got up on incomplete numbers.

"Eight more…"

It was precisely 8 o'clock when Tala finally crawled out of bed and trudged to her shower, hoping she'd be able to scrub off the night before. Not bothering with the lights, she tried to relish the darkness. Darkness was good; darkness went easy on her and didn't remind her that she'd been goaded into drinking _far _too much for a Wednesday.

"Ah, who cares," she said, this time to her bathroom floor. "It's not like Dave really gives a shit anyway."

Shower, coffee, clothes, makeup, hair, breakfast – it was a practiced routine, one that was only slightly hampered by the growing pain behind her eyes.

_More coffee, _she thought, _just…more coffee. _

Grabbing a flask, she was out the door just before 9.

* * *

For the entire day, she didn't have a single thought worth having. It was great – the personal assistant network always envied her for her boss, because Dave _really _didn't give a shit.

He had a gift and a reputation for being utterly devoid of any charisma, or any discernible personality for that matter. But that meant that he was also mercifully free of any of the quirks that those poor other PAs had to deal with, so she never even considered leaving; as long as she answered the phone promptly and didn't make typos, she had enough money and free time to make up for the fact that she had to walk into that beige office every week.

At 5 o'clock, on the dot, she left the office, headed home, and went straight to her bathroom again. The stupid headache had refused to budge the whole day, no matter how much water she forced into her system.

"Am I being punished?" she groaned, letting the hot water rush over her, hoping that it would perform a healing miracle. "Or is this hangover just worse because Thursdays are the Sundays of the week?"

Predictably, her showerhead gave no answer.

Just as she was rinsing out her shampoo, her knees buckled.

"What the…," she gasped. The world was tilting on its side; she could only reach out a hand to steady herself as the pressure behind her eyes began to spike, and for a moment her vision was overcome by a brilliant green light.

And then, darkness.


	2. The Sunne Rising

There was too much noise.

_Why are they in my apartment? _

For the second time that day, Tala summoned all her willpower so that she could force her eyes open. The first thing she noticed was that she was surrounded by three or four people, all of whom seemed to be wearing…armor.

Any minute now, her brain would catch up with her situation, and she'd figure out just what, exactly, she had woken up to.

_Oh. Because this isn't my apartment. _

She was in a tiny room, on a very uneven mattress, with only the light of a small window to see by. Her hair was still wet, soaking into the sorry excuse of a pillow that her head was still laying on. The walls were stone, for some reason, and they were bare, which she supposed accounted for the chill that had seemed to settle in her bones.

_So cold, _was her next coherent thought, _why is it so cold? It's the middle of summer._

In the next moment, Tala glanced down and found out why, and almost passed out again. She was _naked_, covered only in a blanket that was starting to make her itch, in front of a handful of strangers, all of whom were whispering to each other in tones that Tala could only partly hear.

Even worse, if the approaching voices outside were any indication, she would soon be naked in front of a small, _highly _interested crowd.

"Are you okay, lass?"

The question cut through the mess of voices, and her gaze landed on the speaker – but what was that accent? It was vaguely…Irish? Scottish? A bad imitation of the two? Like the others, he was wearing heavy armor, with a symbol on it that she couldn't recognize. The face was unfamiliar to her as well… and not to mention a little unusual. Tattoos lined his face, down the bridge of his nose and onto his chin.

Uneasy ideas began to form in her mind.

"…her hands…"

"…Herald…Inquisitor…"

"…let me _see_…"

_My hands? _

Tala took a second to check her hands: it _looked _fine. They were both in working order, all of her fingers and thumbs accounted for. What did they mean by her hands? Pulling the blanket up closer around her, she looked up again, a million questions at the tip of her tongue.

But first, the important ones.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

_Is_ _ this some cult and is that why you brought me here naked?_

He was, bless him, helpful enough to answer her first two questions.

"I'm Knight-Captain Rylen, of the Inquisition. You're at Skyhold, on the Frostback Mountains."

_Well, at least he answered, _Tala thought, although she was completely baffled by most of it. And he'd answered truthfully, too – a quick glance out of the window did actually show a jagged, snowy landscape.

How on earth did she get to the mountains? And none of the mountains near her even had any snow. She'd certainly never heard of the _Frostback_ Mountains before.

By this time, even more people had managed to find their way in.

"I don't – the Inquisition?"

Silence.

Then the murmuring broke out again, more heated this time, but she couldn't hear anything that they were saying.

_Okay, this is annoying, _she thought, shifting to secure the blanket more firmly. _I'm going to need some answers, because it's way too fucking weird and I clearly need to find a way out of here._

She noticed that the entrance was blocked by the people crowding in. No chance of leaving like this, then.

"How did I get here?"

"You fell from the rift," came the reply. It was a level voice, but the words carried across the din without effort. From the way everyone scrambled back, Tala figured that whoever said it was 'Important'.

The woman that came forward walked in such a way as to confirm her suspicions. Though she was bizarrely dressed, with armor and a hood that partially covered a pale face and red hair, her sharp, steady gaze was trained on Tala, like she was daring her to make a run for it.

"I will need to speak to you," the woman continued. "Alone."

The room emptied as quickly as it had filled, but Tala felt no less comfortable. Somehow, it felt like the whole world had been reduced to this woman and what she wanted from her.

"I need some clothes first," she blurted out. Whatever happened, she wanted to face it with her pants on.

The redhaired woman looked bemused, but somehow managed to pull out the largest grey shirt that she'd ever seen and some sort of underclothes. Tala shot up, glad to be rid of the cursed blanket. The shirt was so big she would surely look like a child playing dress-up, but clothing was clothing.

"Be quick."

There was a little maneuvering to be done before she was ready – Tala had to use the blanket to brush some dirt off her back and her legs, which she supposed came from the 'fall' they mentioned. Once she was finished, the redhead wasted no time in beginning her questioning.

"What is your name?"

Tala noticed that she didn't offer her own.

"Amy."

That had been the name that she'd always given creeps at the bar, on the street, in the supermarket; it was common sense, really, the kind that their mother had drilled into them since childhood. Tala was many things, but she wasn't stupid.

Unfortunately, the Redhead seemed to have an innate bullshit detector.

"I was asking for your _real _name."

There was an edge to the words, one that made her want to crawl back under the blanket.

"I passed out," Tala said, choosing her words carefully. People like that could smell fear, and would pounce on it at the first opportunity. "And then I woke up surrounded by people I've never seen before, wearing armor." _So no fucking way am I going to give up my name, _she added silently_._

Redhead didn't press the issue, but seemed content to let the question sit.

"Where am I?"

"I believe the Knight-Captain has already answered that question," she said, her tone still calm, decisive. It could've been pleasant, even; but Tala was still wary.

"I've lived in this area for half of my life, and I've never heard of it. And what do you mean I fell? I was in my…wait." A new thought occurred to her.

"This is a dream."

She'd read, a few years ago, about people experiencing visions, moments before death, that were so real it was difficult to distinguish from reality. Maybe this was what was happening – it was the only way it all made sense. One last dream, before whatever happened next.

Well. If this was death, then it wasn't too bad. Certainly could have been worse.

Redhead crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm _very _real."

And then she pulled out the sharpest looking knife Tala had ever seen.

Giving a silent scream, Tala jerked back so quickly that she fell back onto the bed. But all Redhead did was take one of her hands.

"I won't stab you," she said, a little too conversationally for a woman holding a weapon. "Much."

_My subconscious is so fucked up, _Tala thought, transfixed, as she watched Redhead bring the tip of the knife down on her palm; as the blade dragged along her skin, she had to bite back a curse. The pain as the steel bit into her was so real, it couldn't have been a dream.

_Well, shit. _

That just brought her back to square one.

"Okay, so this isn't a dream," she said, still staring at the fresh blood on her hand. "But that just means that all my previous questions still stand."

Redhead sighed, and tucked the knife back into her ridiculous armor.

"You are not my only problem," she said, by way of dismissal. "Rest. There is a bed. You should know that there will _also_ be guards at the door, and they know how to stop an escape."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Tala knew her own capabilities; going to the gym three times a week did not an escape artist make.

The tiniest smile lifted the corner of Redhead's mouth, and she inclined her head ever so slightly. "There'll be a healer here shortly. They will check you for injuries, and heal your cut," she said, not unkindly.

And with that, she swept out, leaving Tala with a bleeding hand and the beginnings of another headache.


	3. Ah, Teneriffe!

Her solitude didn't last long. Not five minutes after Redhead left, an apologetic sounding man swept in, poking and prodding every inch of her; after ascertaining that she had not bashed her head by 'her fall', he cleaned and bandaged her hand with the kind of linen strip that she only saw in movies. He even let her use a comb, saying that he'd always heard that people with long hair preferred to comb their hair when wet, 'as to avoid tangles and the like'.

"You're lucky you only sustained that cut," he said when he finished. Tala didn't bother correcting him. "The Inquisitor –"

But he stopped short.

"The Inquisitor? Is that the woman who just left?" If she was going to be stuck here until morning, she wasn't going to sit and twiddle her thumbs.

Her question was met with an incredulous snort.

"Oh, Maker, no!" he said, looking at her like she'd asked if water was wet.

"Then who _is_ this Inquisitor person?"

He ducked his head slightly before he answered. "Pardon me, miss, but Sister Leliana said to only have necessary conversations with you. About your condition, and such."

_Ah, that's probably Redhead's name. _

She gave him her best work smile.

"Don't worry, I understand." There was never any use in antagonizing the ones taking orders, anyway.

"I'll just check your head again, and then I'll be off." He took his time; though he told her once again that she was perfectly fine, he was still looking at her with that incredulous expression – eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, like he wanted to say more. Only he didn't.

"Thank you," she said finally, hoping he'd catch the hint. She'd always hated being gawked at.

Whatever force that ran the universe was merciful, because he understood at once and left with an awkward wave.

As soon as she was alone, she began to pace.

It would be pretty accurate to call herself a prisoner – that Sister Leliana had said as much. And since this was definitely not a dream, what with her still aching hand, she cast her mind around for any other explanations.

_If this is a prank, it's not funny. In fact, I think I could legally beat whoever organized it into the ground and any jury on Earth would exonerate me. _

There was an uncanny amount of effort put into this prank, though. What with the armor and the room and everyone on the same script. And the _mountains. _She couldn't fathom why anyone would pour in this much time and effort for a prank that didn't even make sense.

A kidnapping was definitely a possibility. At the very least, someone had managed to take her out of the apartment, and up into the mountains that everyone had heard of but her.

But Tala's gut instinct was that it wasn't right – the whole thing seemed off, and she wasn't sure why. It wasn't just the whole...scene. It was something else, something she couldn't quite place her finger on.

Looking out of the window, out onto that baffling, snowy landscape, Tala tried to figure out what it was.

_I wonder how long it took them to get me here, _she mused, tapping her finger on the window frame. _Because I must've been out for hours – it looks like it's midday. _

Before long, she became aware of her hair slowly soaking through the shirt that Leliana had given her; frowning, she reached back and twisted it up. This is why she always dried her hair immediately –

And then she realized how strange that was.

She had passed out while in the shower. That's why her hair was wet. But it was noon, hours since then, so why was it still like this? It wasn't like anyone would constantly be wetting her hair while she was being moved.

_They all said I fell from a 'rift'. Maybe that rift thing was like…a teleportation, thing? _

Tala almost burst out laughing at the very idea.

_Too fanciful by half, idiot, _she thought, _you've been reading too much fiction. _

Her mind was running on empty, clearly, if _that _was its destination, so she decided the best course of action was to flop back down onto the bed. _Sister _Leliana had told her to rest, and there wasn't much else to do anyway.

_If this really is a kidnapping, I shouldn't be doing this. _Tala was already yawning. _Oh, well. I would hope that they have the decency to finish me off in my sleep._

* * *

The door to her room slash holding cell creaked something awful when it opened. And it sounded even worse when it closed.

"Hello."

It had been less than a day, but Tala was getting real tired of waking up to unfamiliar voices. Sitting up, she tried to summon another smile.

"Hi."

Her visitor was another woman, dressed in the same pseudo-medieval fashion that everyone else wore – gloves, tunic, strategic pieces of armor. Although her face looked a little younger than Leliana's, there were bags under her eyes that reminded Tala of her university days.

_Still. She's very pretty. And a little less scary than Leliana. Is she here to interrogate me? _

The woman smiled back at her, and leaned against the doorframe.

"My name is Eleanor. You made a bit of a stir last night," she said, clear eyes searching Tala's face. "We won't hurt you. But we use real names around here."

Tala felt like she was being verbally lead into a courtroom, and this Eleanor was to be her judge.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?"

Eleanor sighed. "Maybe it would've been better if you'd met Josephine first," she muttered, evidently to herself. Straightening herself, she opened the door and gestured for Tala to join her.

"Let's take a walk. One of the guards will give you a coat."

After a beat, Tala saw an arm pass something to the other woman.

Shrugging on the offered garment, Tala felt a little, tiny spark of relief at the thought of fresh air. Even if the guards were going to trail them – and they probably would – it would still be more freedom than she'd had in that room.

There was nothing that could have prepared Tala for the scene that greeted her as they both stepped outside. Below them was a courtyard, surrounded by stone walls that looked like they were held together by faith and goodwill – stone walls, Tala realized, that they were currently standing on. People below them milled around in dresses and robes and armor, and in the distance she could hear the clanging of what she assumed would be a blacksmith.

It was too _real, _too real to be a dream and too real to be one of those historical recreations that she'd seen on TV. That teleportation idea wasn't looking too ridiculous anymore.

"This…,"she stuttered, trying to control her breathing. What had that man called it? "This is Sky – thing? Skyhold?"

Eleanor was looking at her, concern tightening the corners of her mouth. Tala looked up at the sky, emptying her mind until her breathing slowed into something that could pass off as normal.

"Yes. You were found over there," she said, once she was certain that Tala wasn't about to pass out again. Tala's eyes followed to the line of Eleanor's gloved hand, and saw an innocent patch of ground. "More than a few dozen eyewitnesses swear that you fell out of a rift, one that immediately closed itself. You understand that that is highly unusual."

"I'm sorry," Tala said, resigned to being confused for the foreseeable future. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You're the second person that's talked about a rift, and I don't even know what that means."

Her admission was met with raised eyebrows. Even the guards that loitered behind them, the picture of personal disinterest, stared.

"Where did you say you were from?"

_I didn't, _Tala thought. _But nice try. _

"Where I'm from, we don't have these…rifts. At least not in the sky, which is what I'm guessing everyone means because they keep saying that I fell from one."

Eleanor let out a low whistle. "You have never even heard of any rifts? Then your homeland is lucky." Tilting her head, she continued. "You are not Fereldan."

"No."

"Or Orlesian."

"No."

"Or from the Free Marches. Unless you are – are you Parladian?" Tala thought she could hear a note of excitement in her voice.

"Um…no. I'm Asian." She thought it best to end with the speculation, since all the guesses were nationalities she'd never even heard before.

A blank stare. Either she was, for some mysterious reason, pretending to not understand, or this woman had genuinely never heard of Asia, which was damn near impossible. Especially since it looked like a fair few of the people below had to have some roots there.

_I _cannot_ believe that all of the evidence points to teleportation._

Taking a deep breath, Tala decided to just go for it. To rip the bandaid off, so to speak.

"We're in the Frostback Mountains, I think, right?"

"Yes," Eleanor said.

"And the Frostback Mountains…"

"...border Ferelden and Orlais," Eleanor finished for her, reciting the line with the patience of a schoolmarm.

"And Ferelden and Orlais are…"

_Countries? Hopefully fictional?_

But Eleanor didn't finish her statement this time. Instead, she was staring at her with an intensity that Tala couldn't match; she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"You're not even Thedosian," Eleanor said, words coming out in a whisper. "This will be a longer conversation than I thought."

"Yes. I think so," Tala said, hoping against hope that it would be a productive one. Befuddlement had given way to an increasingly tight knot of panic in her chest; if she was right, and it was looking increasingly likely that she _was, _she was in deep shit.

"There are some people I think you should meet," Eleanor said in reply, placing her hand on Tala's shoulder. "But first, I need your name."

It went against all common sense, but with the revelations of the past ten minutes, it quite seem to apply anymore.

"I'm Tala."


	4. The Last Continent

Eleanor said something to one of the guards, who nodded and marched off. Nodding to Tala, she followed his path at a more leisurely pace, and Tala fell into step beside her.

"There's too much to say in one conversation," Eleanor told her. "So I'll let you know the most important parts."

Tala nodded, relieved to finally be getting some concrete information – it allowed her something to focus on. If she learned as much as she could, she could have _some _feeling of control in this increasingly fucked-up situation.

"They're called Fade Rifts," Eleanor said. "Tears in the Veil that separates us from the Fade. Up until now, they've been exclusively bad news, as they allow demons and spirits to wreak havoc on whatever they can. The Inquisition is tasked with closing those rifts."

"And then I fell out of one of those." Even though she'd geared up for it, this explanation was shaping up to be a little…out there. "But I'm not a demon. Or a spirit. Le– I mean, Sister Leliana can tell you that."

"I'll take your word for it," Eleanor said, smiling. "But yours seems to have closed by itself. _That _is highly unusual, because up until now, there had only been one thing proven to close them."

"What is it?"

_She's going to say something like magic, or something, because of course she would, with the way this day is going. _

"It's called the Anchor." The words came a little slower than before. "A mark that allows the person who wields it to seal the rifts."

"And how many people have this, um, anchor?"

"Only one."

Tala exhaled sharply. That sounded like a world of responsibility, with a generous helping of crazy. "Wow. Only one person. I feel sorry for whoever that is."

"Some called it a miracle," Eleanor said, and Tala suddenly wondered if she'd caused offense. "A blessing conferred from Andraste to her Herald."

Andraste, Herald. They were veering into unknown territory again. Thankfully, Eleanor wasn't done talking.

"Actually, the mark's on the last person to fall out of a rift."

"Wait. Wait, you don't think," Tala said, panic rising again as the implication of what Eleanor said hit her, "I don't even _know _how I would –"

"I wouldn't worry," Eleanor said, sounding, for the first time, just a little tired. "You don't have it. I – we were hoping that perhaps…but it's alright. We'll do fine as we are."

_Oh. Maybe they thought I would be able to help. _A small pang of guilt went through Tala, though she knew it was ridiculous. Even if she was willing, it sounded like too much risk – if and when she fucked up, what would the consequences be? It wasn't even her world.

"Here we are," Eleanor said, breaking Tala's reverie. They were standing in front of another door, which was in a lot better shape than hers. "After you."

Tala went through.

_Breathe in, breathe out, and you can do this, _Tala promised herself, _I'll have any conversation they want, and I'll do it without snapping_. Breaking down was a luxury she would indulge in when she was alone.

She walked into the room, making sure to look at her surroundings carefully. It was clearly a study or an office of some kind – much nicer than her 'room', larger, with more furniture and even a carpet on the floor, but it was still a little drafty. Inside was a tall, blonde man who had shoulders like a linebacker and armor topped with the fluffiest collar she'd ever seen.

"Inquisitor," he said in a deep, pleasant voice.

Tala's head whipped around so fast that her neck almost seized up.

"Wait, _you're _the Inquisitor that everyone keeps talking about?"

_Welp, there goes the composure. _

Eleanor shrugged at her, saying, "I'm sorry. I would have told you, but it was a nice break. This is Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's forces."

"And you are Tala," Cullen said, choosing to gloss over her little outburst. He looked her over in the same, practiced way that Leliana and Eleanor had done.

"Okay," Tala said, determined once and for all to get the story straight. "Okay, I'll answer any questions you have. But please, humor me."

Cullen looked at Eleanor, who nodded in response.

Taking that as an okay signal, Tala took a deep breath. "The Fade Rifts. You said the Inquisition was in charge of closing them."

"Yes," she said.

"You're the Inquisitor, so…I would assume you're in charge of the whole thing."

Eleanor's lips twitched. "Yes, more or less."

"So this place, Skyhold, it's like, the headquarters of this Inquisition?"

"It is the center of all of the Inquisition's operations, you're correct," Cullen said, speaking at last. "So you understand that it is crucial to keep Skyhold safe from any and all who look to compromise it."

If Leliana was a knife, Cullen was a sledgehammer. His threat had all the subtlety of a punch in the face; Tala could've sworn that she heard Eleanor give the smallest sigh, but she moved past it.

"Then that mark that closes the rifts, the Anchor, the one given to the Herald person, that's what the whole Inquisition –" she said, before she made the now glaringly obvious connection. Turning back to Eleanor, she continued, "That's what the whole Inquisition depends on. And _you're _the Herald."

If she had room for any other emotions, Tala would've felt a little insulted that Eleanor looked so impressed at her statement.

"Guilty as charged," Eleanor said, a little less lightly than before. "Like I said, with the circumstances of your appearance, there was a brief hope that there would be two marks. It would have allowed us to…work more efficiently, in a way. The theological confusion in its wake would've been a small price to pay."

_Theological. That's another thing I'm going to have to figure out. _

But Tala wasn't quite finished yet. "You fell out of a rift, too," she said. "Although…you're from here. Right?"

"Yes. It seems that the similarities in our situations ended at the rift, unfortunately. We still have a mystery on our hands."

At that, Cullen shifted slightly, looking her over once more. Clearly, he hadn't been told all the pertinent details.

"Oh." This was a little less helpful than what was needed – she was still a few brushstrokes short of the bigger picture.

"I've sent for someone to meet you," Eleanor said, when she went quiet. "He knows more about the Fade than most. Perhaps if the two of you talked, he could help."

Eleanor's timing was perfect, apparently, because at that moment the door opened, and the three of them turned towards the sound – a sound, Tala couldn't help but notice, that resembled an actual door opening and _not_ a tacky haunted house effect.

A slim, bald man walked in, greeting Eleanor and Cullen.

"Inquisitor. Commander."

"Solas," both of them said in unison.

"I'm Tala," she heard herself saying. Her mind was still trying to process everything, so when Tala noticed that this 'Solas' person was clearly not human, she just couldn't bring herself to think too deeply about it. "I have a problem."

* * *

She wished that the whole thing hadn't started in the shower.

After Eleanor had dragged the sole, dusty chair to the centre of the room – "Maker's breath, Cullen, all these books, when was the last time you sat down?" – Tala sat down. Conscious of the three of them towering over her, she began at the beginning.

Both Eleanor and Cullen had to look away when she stumbled through the whole waking up naked part, her embarrassment causing too many details to just keep coming out of her mouth; the latter's ears were tinged with pink, and the former was polite enough to turn her snort of laughter into a cough.

To his credit, Solas' attention never wavered.

When she'd finished, belatedly realizing that she could've just left out the nakedness of it all, she waited for him to speak.

"So you're saying that all of this is unfamiliar to you," he said.

"I mean, yeah," Tala replied, wondering if he'd missed the whole point of her story. "People keep talking about things that I've never heard about, like all these countries? The whole 'Middle Ages' look of it is the only thing that I vaguely recognize."

At that, the other three glanced at each other.

It was Cullen who spoke. "The Middle Age? We're over forty years into the Dragon Age now. And there is no recorded Middle Age."

"Is that metaphorical or are there are actual _dragons _here?"

"I take it that your world is devoid of them," Solas said drily. "But yes, there are dragons. Most have been hunted to extinction, but some remain."

"Why not," Tala sighed. "Look, in my world, we don't have this. There's never been anything like a Fade Rift, or anything – I don't even know what the Fade is."

Solas sucked in a breath, leaning forward. "You have no Fade? Then there is no magic, where you're from."

"None whatsoever. We don't even have, um…elves."

The elf – _because what else could he be, _Tala thought – in front of her was taken aback, and his eyes flashed in a way that made her sweat a little bit.

_Oh God, I hope it's not like some slur or something._ _I don't want to offend the guy that they said could possibly help me. _

"No elves?" he said. It was in the same cool tone as before, but she was sure she hadn't imagined the anger in his eyes. "What happened to them?"

"Wha–no, nothing happened to them. They just never existed. There's only humans in our world. I mean, there are animals, but in terms of what we're talking about, there's only humans."

"I see," came the reply. The anger was gone now, and that measured, even look was back in place.

"Well?" Eleanor spoke for the first time since Tala had started her story. "Is it Fade magic?"

"If so, it is magic I have never encountered before."

_So that's it, _Tala thought, stomach sinking. _He really doesn't know? _

She was horrified to find that tears were starting to form in her eyes, so she dug her nails into her palms; she didn't even know these people, and crying would make the whole situation a hundred times worse. Blinking, Tala looked at Solas again, willing him to understand how much she hated not knowing.

In his eyes, she saw sympathy. But no eureka moment.

"I'm sorry that I cannot offer more advice. But if I come across any information that may help, be assured that I will let you know."

"Thank you," Tala said, dropping her gaze. She could feel the misery creep in; his promise was too vague. "I appreciate your trying to help."

"You're welcome," he said. Saying his goodbyes, Solas left the office.

She felt Eleanor's hand resting on her shoulder again. "I'm sorry. I really thought he could help."

"It's not your fault." One apology was fine. Two was starting to feel like pity. If Cullen joined in with them, Tala thought she would scream. "If it's okay, do you mind if I go back to the room? Alone?"

"Of course," Eleanor said. Tala couldn't tell if she was looking at her or not. She didn't care. "I'll send along some clothes. And if you need anything else, let myself, Cullen, or Leliana know."

"Thank you." Tala was dimly aware that Eleanor had allowed her to go back, sans the guards; for that she was grateful.

Tala made her way back to the confines of that tiny room by herself, numb to the sounds and smells around her. As she sat on the pathetic, uncomfortable mattress, she finally allowed the tears to come.

Her dreams were flush with terror that night.


End file.
